Director Zliplitt rants henceforth to be dubbed "Political-Poetical Romances"

No additional text here! What further elaboration is required beyond the information imparted within the assignated blogstarian "title"? The pronouncement is all. Perhaps you ache for some literary kapok, some flavor-deprived white-bread stuffing, as one would find within any (nay, all) "Urth" periodical zealous to fill the few vacant pages between the limitless adverts (one has paid a king's ransom for) with any dreck that would justify the niche-marketed theme implied by the idiotically hopeful cover banner. Examples, you require? "The American Garage Floor Cleaner": each issue packed immobile with 15 whole pages (out of 105) of elucidating essays, immense photos, and endless side-bars, on contemporary garage floor cleaning--perfect reward for father on Father's Day as garage floor scrubbery tends to be his only topic of conversation since the "cranial injury." Then we have "Cosmopolitan" (a misnomer if ever one washed ashore, corrupted and bloated) which, in its seemingly mandated monthly copulatory positioning elaborations ("Sixty yet entirely new manners to propel your unlucky partner off a metaphorical cliff and into very real perdition!") mimics the essentials of "The American Garage Mender" and most governmental re-re-orderings of re-proposed social programs in its unimaginative recycling of previously prepared meat loaf with baby peas.